An Imperfect Place
by Poppy471
Summary: The world is an imperfect place, as Allison knows well. Can she find a place for herself? Rated M for adult situations, non-graphic sex
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Brian, did you get a chance to say goodbye to Claire?" Allison is twirling a green leaf between her fingers as she and Brian walk down Howard Street.

"Yeah, I did, yesterday right before they left for the airport."

"It's too bad your parents wouldn't let you come to the going away party. Claire missed you. Andy and I did too." She tucks the leaf behind her ear.

"I should have told my parents the party was a Latin Club meeting."

They pause to let a car pass before crossing over to the 7-11 where Brian opens the door for Allison.

"Was Bender there yesterday to say goodbye?"

Brian begins sorting through penny candies on the bottom shelf in the candy aisle. "No, not when I was there."

"That shit!" Allison almost yells this, twisting a package of pixie stix so hard it pops open. The sticks fly out and Allison squats down to collect them.

"What did he do?" Brian hands her a stick that landed by his feet.

"He didn't go out to dinner with her, he didn't go to the party, and he didn't say goodbye yesterday."

"No wonder Claire looked so sad. I thought she was just sad to be leaving."

"She's going all the way to California and he can't say goodbye! Andy is only going to Wisconsin and he said goodbye." Their last conversation was a hard one, but not unexpected. Andy couldn't see a long distance relationship working when for all they knew they might be divided for four years.

Brian leads the way to the checkout counter holding a handful of candies, and pays up in silence. He knows the gist of the conversation and seems uncomfortable.

Allison slams the pixie stix onto the counter and impatiently holds out a dollar bill. "He is a coward!" The clerk looks alarmed but she doesn't care. She sticks out her hand for the change.

"He knows she can't promise anything and he didn't want to hear it from her, so he's making her miserable!" She snatches the change away and pushes the glass door open with a shove. "I'm glad he's graduated too and we don't have to see his cowardly face at school." If Bender had shown up right that second, she would have punched him.

* * *

After their idyllic summer, the five breakfast club members are going their separate ways, Andy and Claire to college, John Bender to whatever it is that John Bender does, and these two left behind in school, Allison as a senior and Brian as a sophomore. At least they have each other and don't have to return to pre-breakfast club isolation.

The first day back at school, Allison heads for the lunch table the five of them used to sit at, then realizes it makes no sense for two people to sit at such a large table. She sees Brian's wave then, and wends her way to the table where Lester, Tom, Ken, and Richard sit. Brian has negotiated a place for her at the geek table.

The guys seem shy and it is obvious her presence intimidates them, so she goes into full basket case turtle mode, pulling into herself so that she is barely noticeable. It's a trick she has and she attributes it to her study of Indian meditation.

They return to enjoying their in-jokes of the Latin, physics, and math clubs without paying much attention to her and she is content to observe their high spirits and enjoyment of each other's company after a summer apart. Richard is obviously the joker and has two french fries hanging out of his nose. Lester laughs so hard he snorts his milk. A tiny smile plays at the corner of her mouth, but not big enough to remind them of her presence. She and Brian exchange looks.

Life isn't so bad, even with three of the five gone. They are no longer alone. Last year John and Andy made it clear that any rough housing with Brian would involve a wrestling hold and a switchblade, so Brian is enjoying a stress-free reunion. Everyone knows Andy is gone, but the idea that John Bender might show up to exact vengeance at any time has cowed the ringleaders of the bullies. It's open season again for Allison and the catty rich girls, as there is nothing Claire could do from UCLA, but she no longer cares very much about their whispers and pointed looks —not when she has Brian.

After school Allison and Brian meet as usual by the gym and start walking home together. Brian's middleclass house is on the way to Allison's fancy condominium. They stop at the 7-11 to stock up on penny candy and pixie stix, then part ways.

Allison continues into the edge of the northern heights. Claire's house is firmly in the center of the affluent Shermer neighborhood, while Allison's mother's condo clings to the outskirts. She lets herself in and hears her mother's voice; she's talking on the phone as usual.

With no homework from the first day of school, she is free to pass her time any way she chooses. Last year, she would go to Andy's house and stay until it was his dinner time. Now, with Andy gone, she is left to amuse herself again. She goes to her large sketchbook she reserves for special projects and opens it to her group portrait of the breakfast club, drawn from a snapshot taken on the last day of school last year.

Andy has on his letterman jacket and his arms folded like a tough guy, John is wearing his sunglasses and jean jacket, Claire leans on John, and Brian and Allison are kneeling below.

After a while, Allison closes the book on her memories of a perfect summer, hunger calling her away. Her mother is now in the shower, where she spends half her time. If she's not showering and grooming, she's on the phone. If she's not on the phone, she's with her boyfriend. Allison digs through the cabinets and comes up with a jar of marshmallow fluff and an unopened can of Hershey's syrup. She carefully spreads a slice of bread with fluff, drizzles it with syrup and completes her sandwich with another piece of bread on top. Snagging a banana, she heads back to her room, where she turns on the college radio station.

Eating her sandwich, she finds she is lonely for the first time in months. No Andrew to call, no group to meet, no anticipation of another planned outing. She explores this loneliness, sensing how different it is from her loneliness before the breakfast club. Before, she was sunk in a perpetual fortress of solitude with no hope of any change. The difference now, she decides, is that she knows where her next human contact will be coming from and is secure that it will come. She'll see Brian tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.

She and Andy decided not to torture themselves with phone calls; that would only continue the pain of separation and delay the adjustment to life without each other. Like ripping a band-aid off all at once, rather than by increments. She wishes she could find out if he arrived okay, if his new roommate is a good guy, if he likes his new coach. Instead she sighs, finishes her sandwich and starts on the banana.

* * *

The next Friday, according to public radio, will be a meteor shower, starting at eleven. Allison tries to talk Brian into sneaking out of the house to accompany her on a stargazing mission, but he declines, so she readies to go by herself. Brian would approve of her stargazing spot even less than the time, as she plans to trespass on the public golf course to the east of Shermer.

It takes a good twenty minutes of brisk walking to get there, but she is away from the city street lights now. She ducks under the simple chain strung across the maintenance entrance and enters the course.

Navigating under the bright stars becomes easier as her eyes adjust. She finds her secluded spot unoccupied, a waist-high broad, flat stone tilted at the perfect angle for looking at the sky. She climbs up and settles herself with her purse cushioning her head.

After an hour or so, suddenly she is aware that someone else is on the golf course. She stays still, trusting her disappearing in plain sight trick will save her from detection. The figure is advancing steadily across the grass, a tall bulky shape. She keeps hoping they will turn aside, but they do not deviate. Soon the man (because it is definitely a man) is coming straight at her, no chance to escape discovery. He stops next to her, looking down and says "Allison, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

It's Bender. Giving up her position of concealment, she sits up so that her legs dangle over the edge, and he boosts himself up to join her.

"I'm watching the meteor shower. It was shitty of you to let Claire leave without saying goodbye." No preamble, she's too mad to be polite.

"She doesn't care. She's going off to LA, what does she care about me?" Bender's resentment is clear.

"She DOES care. You didn't let her say how much she cares. If you refuse to talk to someone they can't say they care, can they?"

"Well, she's gone now." He's resting his elbows on his knees, head down. "I'm not good enough for someone like her."

"No, that's not true."

"Yeah, she's better without me."

"If you keep feeling sorry for yourself, I might start agreeing with you."

"But her parents have all that money, and she can go to college. I can't do any of that. I'm going to get a job at the paper mill. I couldn't be with someone like her."

"Maybe you can't go to UCLA, but you can go to Northbrook Tech. And there's nothing wrong with working at the paper mill. It's good money."

"Could you see Queenie washing my clothes after I get home from work, smelling like Milton? Can you even see her driving through Milton?" He sounds angry now.

"I would hope you would do your own laundry."

He ignores this. "No, she's too good for me."

"You're holding her family against her. She can't help the family she was born into."

This seems to give him pause.

"Andy didn't leave me behind because he was too good for me. He left because he had a good opportunity with that scholarship. Claire has a good opportunity at UCLA. That doesn't mean she doesn't care about you or that she's better than you."

"But you're not from Milton."

"Half my family lives in Milton!" Allison yells this in frustration. She jumps down from the rock. "When you insult paper mill work and Milton, you're insulting my whole father's side of the family!"

"Really?" His surprise is obvious.

"My father worked his way through Northbrook Tech., then got a scholarship for UIC. Most of my uncles still work at the paper mill, so don't pretend to be poor. I know how much they make."

Bender subsides.

"You keep pulling that card, acting like you're poor."

"But we are; my father drinks up half his check."

"That's because he drinks, not because he does blue collar work. Some rich guys put half their pay checks up their nose. It's not just people who work in factories."

He stands up and leans against the rock with his head bowed, his back to Allison. In a low voice he says, "She used to run her fingers through my hair. I'd put my head in her lap and she'd touch my hair."

Allison realizes he's crying. John Bender crying? Keeping her voice soft, she says, "That's because she cared about you."

"No one ever touched me like that."

"I feel the same way about Andy."

They both lean against the rock in silence for a while.

"You and me, Bender, we've both been handed the raw end of the stick with the families we were born into, my father dead and my mother ignoring me, your dad hitting you. But we can't let that stop us from caring about people. It hurts when they leave, but don't mess up what you and Claire had by pretending to not care about her, pretending she doesn't care about you."

Doing something she has never known him do before, Bender says, "You're right."

"Well, let's call Claire. You can tell her."

His head snaps up. "No way!"

"Why not?"

"I can't."

"You just told me."

"It's almost one in the morning, I can't call her now." Allison can tell he is grasping at straws, trying to invent reasons to dodge doing it.

"She's on pacific time. It's only 10:45 there."

"I don't have her number."

"I do."

"We don't have a phone."

"There's a pay phone at the golf course club house. C'mon Bender, do it. You'll feel better."

Allison gives him the number and some quarters she finds at the bottom of her purse. She walks off and sits on the club house steps and looks up into the sky, the meteor shower at its peak.

* * *

Fall and winter roll by. The anniversary of the breakfast club finds Allison and Brian studying in the city library.

"We better go, Brian," Allison whispers. The large clock over the circulation desk reads 5 o'clock. Brian's books and papers are spread far and wide and it takes him a while to pack them up. Allison is standing with her arms full, purse slung over her shoulder while Brian fusses with his last few papers, finally stowing the folder neatly in his bulging knapsack.

They both wrap their scarves tightly as it is a windy night, cold and damp. The moon is rising huge and yellow.

"Mrs. Dillard's final essay is killing me. The calculations involved in lunar eclipse are crazy. Why did I take astronomy?" Brian bemoans his lot.

"I wrote about the historical names of the moons when I had Mrs. Dillard. No math. This is the Lenten moon, tonight." She's always loved the night sky.

"Mom's picking us up, dad's working late. You want to come for dinner?"

"No, I'm working on a picture tonight." She doesn't add that she will be moon gazing as well, at the golf course as usual. Brian disapproves of her trespassing.

As Mrs. Johnson drops her at home, Allison notes her mother's car is gone. When she opens the door into their living room, the room is empty. No furniture. One lamp is resting on the carpet. This fact refuses to compute. How can all the furniture be gone? Why? Did someone steal it? She finally crosses the threshold, accepting what her eyes are telling her. She moves into the dining room, also empty, as is the master bedroom. She finds the note on the kitchen counter.

_The rent is paid. You can live with your Aunt Selma. I'm sorry._

It isn't even signed.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Gravity seems to push harder than usual. Allison tells herself that isn't possible, but she feels it dragging at her shoulders and bowing her back. She enters her room and is relieved that all of her things are still in place. Well, as far as she can tell; it's a mess as usual. Her hands seem very far away as she places her books on her desk. She shuts the door against all the weirdness of the empty condo, the note, the absence, but it is creeping in under the door. It doesn't feel safe in here anymore. She hoists her purse, carefully locks the front door and sets off randomly. She just can't be in that emptiness any longer.

Initially she aims for the golf course, but remembers it is far too early to sneak in without being spotted. She changes direction and turns towards the Waffle House. Not being alone seems like a good idea right now. Somewhere well lit, full of people, not all empty and strange.

It seems perfectly normal to find Bender sitting at the counter, as if they had agreed to meet there. She slides onto the next stool and says, "The world's an imperfect place."

"Jesus, you scared me, Allison." His coffee is half sloshed onto the counter.

"Sorry. I forget people don't see me."

"You here for dinner?"

"I really don't know what I'm here for." The unreality of her situation rolls over her in a fresh wave. "To meet you, I guess."

"You're here to meet me? I didn't know I was coming here until half an hour ago. I decided to grab something on the way home from Smokey's."

"I'm in trouble, Bender."

She explains the empty condo, the note, the way the emptiness started coming in under her bedroom door.

"You can live with me," he says when she is finished. She must look at him strangely as he quickly adds, "I've got my own place now. You can stay with me in my apartment."

"I don't think that would be legal or something. I'm a minor."

"Well, you can stay tonight at least. You don't want to go back there alone."

He's right, the idea of sleeping in all that echoing blankness is intolerable. It turns out Bender now has a car in addition to his own apartment, a 1976 Ford. She buckles herself in and they drive to the condo.

Bender accompanies her upstairs and looks at the note as she gathers toiletries and a change of clothes.

He lives in Milton now, close to work.

"That's why I can afford a car and an apartment. You weren't kidding when you said it's good money. I didn't realize how much the old man was making." He looks at her sideways as they stop at a red light. "I'm saving up to go to Northbrook Tech."

Allison is surprised. It seems as though Bender really was listening that night. They are silent as they cruise into Milton and into the smell of the paper mill. She's glad she knows that you adjust to the smell quickly.

"It's not much," he says as he scoops a dirty shirt off the couch and removes a plate with the remains of a sandwich on it. It really isn't much, a basement studio, living room and kitchen combined, in a small apartment building. She sees the edge of an unmade bed through the open door and assumes the hallway leads to the bathroom. But it is lived in, full of Bender's things, not empty. He's furnished it from a thrift store apparently, everything is old and slightly worn, but not badly so. All in all, a nice first apartment for a bachelor.

"I didn't think to ask, are you hungry? Do you have money? Did you want something at Waffle House?"

"Something to drink would be good. Do you have any herbal tea?" She sees the look on his face and quickly says, "Water would be great."

* * *

When Allison wakes at dawn, she doesn't know where she is at first. She smells the mill faintly and coffee more strongly, hears Bender moving around quietly in the kitchen, then remembers everything. She walks into the living room rubbing her face. He's making a sandwich when he hears her and turns.

His face lightens and he says, "Morning. I'm on my way to work, just making my lunch. I left a key and a couple bucks there for you. There's eggs, or some ham for sandwiches. You can make OJ if you want."

He'd insisted on sleeping on the couch and it's still covered with a cocoon of sheets and a blanket.

She is not a morning person and it takes a while for her brain to adjust.

"Okay, thanks." Thinking some more she asks, "Where's the bus stop? I need to get to school."

"Take that money, you can call a cab. The bus doesn't go into Shermer. You want to come back here after school, or call me from your place?"

This is all a little much first thing in the morning.

He seems to realize this. "Doesn't matter which, I'll be off work by the time school is over." He looks at the clock. "I'm late. See you." He gives her shoulder a squeeze and is gone.

* * *

Dr. Hashimoto folds his hands carefully and regards Allison, then pushes up his big black glasses. "We'll have to call child welfare and get you placed in a foster home until we can contact your aunt."

Allison looks up from the pile of tiny shreds of styrofoam in her lap. She has been slowly destroying an empty cup. "Please don't make me go to a foster home. You can send me to my aunt right away."

"We need to do some paperwork first. Considering your age, you can probably stay in your current home for a day or two, if I push the point."

"I can take care of myself," she rushes to assure him. His mouth creases under his mustache and he looks like he's going to say something. "I mean, I can do it for a few days. Just until the paper stuff is done."

"I'll talk to the authorities and send for you in seventh period."

* * *

Brian is all incredulity at her story, which sort of helps but sort of makes it worse. It's nice to know he cares and is outraged on her behalf, but it also makes it that much harder to cope with, feeling the full intensity of the craziness. He wants to cover the topic from top to bottom during lunch.

"Brian, I'm feeling bad enough already. Let's talk about something else. Have you heard from Claire or Andy?"

"Claire called last night, actually. She said she had a funny feeling about you and tried your house but no one answered."

"That's pretty weird. It must be the meditation."

"You know I don't believe in all those healing crystal, meditation, yoga things you do."

"I can disappear in plain sight. You know I can. You've seen me do it."

"Okay, yes, I've seen you manipulate others psychologically with body language cues. It's not supernatural." She gives him a look. "It's not! There is always an ordinary explanation for that stuff!"

"Explain why Claire thought of me last night."

"Coincidence."

"It's the meditation, it's opening me up. I'm transmitting. I made Bender appear." She explains the serendipity of the encounter.

"It's all coincidence!" He's quite worked up now. At least they are thinking about something other than the fact Allison's mother abandoned her in a most callous way. She is still so shocked she can't encompass any pain.

When the bell rings for the end of lunch she says, "Brian, don't count on me this week. I probably won't be able to walk home with you. Let's wait and see where my aunt and uncle live, and all that."

She learns that she will indeed be allowed to stay in the condo until the paper work is finished. Her Aunt Selma and Uncle Jim have agreed to take her. She's never met them, her mother being on bad terms with them, but they live right here in Shermer so she doesn't have to change schools or anything. Initially, she thinks she'll do that, stay in the condo, but when she opens the door onto the barren living room, she can't wait to get to Milton and Bender's apartment. She packs a bag for a few days, then calls Bender.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Riding back to Milton in Bender's car, she negotiates a deal on the use of the bed. He refuses to let her crash on the couch the whole time, but she manages to talk him into taking turns. She also makes a careful record of the money he's lent her. At least in her mind, it is a loan. She got tired of arguing about that. In another victory, she has gotten him to agree to her walking the half mile between the end of the Milton bus line and the start of the Shermer bus line, so she won't be taking a cab every morning. Dr. Hashimoto said the papers would probably be final by Friday and she'll be with her aunt and uncle by the weekend, so it will only be three nights, but for some reason, they are both talking as if this is a permanent arrangement.

They are now at the grocery store, considering breakfast cereals.

"But I like Cap'n Crunch sandwiches."

"Ugh, I'd die of hunger if I had that for breakfast. You sure you don't want pancakes and sausages?"

"I'll make some pancakes for you, and have one sausage," she compromises. This mollifies him. They make their way into the frozen section.

"You like pot pies?" He's leaning over the open freezer case, a pot pie in each hand.

"Yech, no. I'll stick with Salisbury steak dinners." She chooses three of her own dinners.

Her other contributions to the cart include a bag of oranges, a box of herbal tea, bananas, carrots and some lettuce. She makes a mental note of the total, to include in her loan records.

"You wanna watch TV? I usually watch Highway to Heaven." He seems a little uncomfortable about this which puzzles her until she realizes a TV show about an angel is not the most masculine of choices.

"Sure." She's careful to keep her face blank. She really wants to laugh, at his embarrassment more than anything, but she sees it's no laughing matter for him.

After dinner and their TV show, Bender heads to bed. She stays up a while longer, completing her sketch of an angel pushing a grocery cart.

* * *

Friday afternoon Allison is excused from classes to meet her new guardians, the Warberts, Aunt Selma and Uncle Jim. One Miss DePaul from child welfare drives her to the child welfare offices. Aunt Selma is a long boney woman, with blonde hair and brown eyes. She purses her lips when she sees Allison. Allison has a sense that things will not go well. Uncle Jim is a portly man with bright blue eyes. He seems much more friendly. Maybe she will have an ally.

They get into the Warbert's Cadillac, much like her mother's, new and tacky. Aunt Selma sits in the front seat with her pocketbook primly on her lap, radiating disapproval. Allison feels sprawling and messy with her big purse and duffel bag.

"So Allison, what's your favorite subject?" Uncle Jim is trying to be friendly.

"Art, sir." The 'sir' is for Aunt Selma's benefit.

"Can't make much money doing that," he says. "But you don't have to worry about that I guess."

She wonders about this cryptic statement.

"No, sir, all I can do is be a teacher."

"Teaching is a fine profession for a young lady."

Aunt Selma sniffs, but remains silent.

Feeling she needs to keep up her end of the conversation she asks, "Are your children married?"

"Patricia and Donny are both married. Donny has two little girls. They're your cousins, you know," he tells her as if she were unsure what their relationship might be. Uncle Jim seems to think she is younger than she is. Surely they told him she was 17?

After more stilted conversation, they arrive at a suburban ranch house much like Andy's. Patricia is grown and long gone, but here is her teenage girl's bedroom for Allison. It is plastered with posters of tan young men with hair feathered back from their faces, movie and music idols from the last decade. The bed is a hideous pile of pastel frills and stuffed animals. She probably would have been happier in Donny's bedroom, but that door remains closed. Well, at least the bed is big and it is far from Aunt Selma and Uncle Jim's bedroom. She'll be able to listen to college radio, hopefully.

Aunt Selma is cooking roast beef for Allison's welcome dinner. Hoping to get on her good side, Allison offers to assist in the kitchen.

"My mom didn't do much cooking, but I can chop things and wash vegetables, if that would help." Aunt Selma sniffs again, but allows Allison to wash and cut up carrots for boiling and prepare a salad. Allison gets involved in placing half circles of tomatoes and cucumbers in a decorative design atop the iceberg lettuce.

Uncle Jim comes padding in in stocking feet, rubbing his belly and smiling. "Well, well, isn't this pretty," he comments, admiring her handiwork.

"Jim, the roast is ready to be carved." Aunt Selma seems to disapprove of Allison's fanciful salad.

When they are seated at table, Allison sees that Aunt Selma shoved the wooden salad tongs into the center of Allison's design, destroying it. Uh-oh, definite bad vibes. Allison plans to try to perfect her disappear-in-plain-sight trick to stay out of Aunt Selma's way. But she can't right now, this dinner is in her honor. Uncle Jim continues his attempts at jovial conversation. Aunt Selma contributes almost nothing except dark looks.

After dinner she asks to be excused to make a phone call.

"Calling a boyfriend?" Uncle Jim asks with a twinkle.

"No, sir, he isn't my boyfriend. Just a good friend."

Assuming Aunt Selma is listening from the other room, Allison tries to be cryptic.

"Hey, how are the new folks?"

"Almost as nice as Vernon."

"That bad? I guess they're listening?"

"Umm, probably. John, could you meet me-"

"I'm John now?" He laughs

"John, could you meet me on Monday? I need to catch up on Hashimoto's homework."

He laughs some more. "Hashimoto? You going crazy? Sure, I can meet you after school. I'll pick you up at the gym."

"Thanks John. Bye." She hangs up before he can laugh again.

* * *

It is a long, tense weekend. Allison knows she can't just hide in her bedroom as that would appear anti-social, but she doesn't want to draw attention to herself either. She settles on sitting on the floor in the living room with school books and her sketch book. She leans against the sofa, which hides her from view without the appearance of hiding.

After her chores, that is. Saturday morning she reports for breakfast and asks Aunt Selma if she has any chores. This at least earns her a slight nod and a lessening of frigid disapproval. She is detailed to clean the two and a half bathrooms the house contains and to vacuum the living room.

Uncle Jim is in the garage most of Saturday, doing a woodworking project of some kind. She wishes she could go observe him as wood sculpture is something she hopes to study next year in art school, but the bad vibes from Aunt Selma increase every time Uncle Jim is overtly nice to her, so she stays in the living room.

Sunday, of all things, she must accompany them to church. She is forced into some of Patricia's cast offs as Allison has no clothing that isn't black or gray.

"We'll have to take you shopping for decent clothes," Aunt Selma says, giving Allison a look of distaste. She's starting to wish she had just stayed with Bender and not mentioned her mother's desertion to anyone.

Finally Monday morning comes. The idea of school is bliss, an escape from being holed up with someone who dislikes her so much. Aunt Selma drives her to school and she meets Brian at their usual spot by the gym.

"Oh thank god, Brian, I'm glad to see you." She surprises him with a bear hug. She relates the bare bones of her story before homeroom.

"Jeez, that bad, huh?"

"Uncle Jim is fine, but Aunt Selma is from hell. And Uncle Jim being nice makes her worse." She blows upward in frustration, her bangs parting. "I can't wait until I'm 18."

"Where will you go then?"

The homeroom bell interrupts this conversation and she spends the morning wondering, where will she go when she's 18? Brian asked and she has no idea. She keeps coming back to Bender; he seems like her only port in this storm. Brian and Claire would help if they could but she doesn't know what they could do except give her temporary shelter. She is sure Andy would help too, if she asked, but again, what could he do?

Bender is waiting by the gym when Allison and Brian show up, just like they used to all meet last year.

"Hey pipsqueak," Bender says as he gives Brian a gentle punch in the arm. "You giving Vernon hell for me?"

"No one can do it like you did, Bender."

They set off and Bender puts his arm around Allison's shoulders. "Your new folks are the shits?"

"You wouldn't believe Aunt Selma. She's from hell. She says I have to buy church clothes. I want to tell her I'm a pagan just to see her brain explode."

Brian says, "Don't let her catch you doing your crystal healing or yoga. Do you know, Bender, she says she's transmitting now? Like a radio station?" Brian is looking for an ally in his rational explanation campaign.

"How else did I know to go to Waffle House the other night?"

"Oh man," Brian says, "Not you too."

Allison basks in the warmth of her friends' affection and company.

"Hey, why are we turning here?" Brian asks as Bender steers them around the corner.

"My car." Bender gestures to his Ford.

"Oh nice, man. What year?"

Allison sits between them in the front seat as they talk about cars.

They drop Brian off and Bender asks "Where to?"

"Three streets over from Andy's house, Arbor Lane"

"Somehow, I don't think Aunt Selma will like me very much. I'll drop you on the corner."

* * *

Allison decides that making a big deal about doing homework at the kitchen table will allow her to be excused to her room not long after dinner. Then she will at least be able to listen to the radio and do some yoga. Her plan works beautifully. Uncle Jim is impressed by her academic diligence and Aunt Selma can't complain after Allison volunteers to clear the table and load the dishwasher. She doesn't feel free to breathe until she shuts the door between herself and Aunt Selma's hostility. Maybe there are worse things than being ignored. But then she thinks of the empty condo.

Bender has made it a habit to pick Allison and Brian up from school and she revels in their warm acceptance. It fortifies her to endure Aunt Selma. After a week of exemplary behavior, Aunt Selma begins to loosen up and actually smiles at her twice. Then Allison finds she must study in earnest as end of the year projects and essays are piled on her and she must begin preparing for final exams.

She comes home one afternoon, arms full of books, to be greeted by Aunt Selma. Allison sees white spittle collected in one corner of Aunt Selma's mouth and senses that some kind of craziness has come over her. She eases in the door, keeping her back to the wall. Aunt Selma pulls something out of her apron pocket.

"You! You snake in the grass! You devil's child! You think I don't know what you are. You're a slut, just like your mother."

Allison recognizes what Aunt Selma is waving... the birth control pills her doctor prescribed her to deal with heavy periods.

"Who are you spreading your whore's legs for?"

"It's for my period, I'm not... I don't..."

She's backed up against the door now.

"Tell that to someone who doesn't know better, you trash. I'm keeping these and you will keep your legs shut when you're in my house. No boyfriends. Not even this 'John' you say is just a friend."

"But it's for..."

"Don't try that one on me. Go to your room. Stay there until dinner."

The week goes on, a nightmare of studying and hostility. She is exiled to her room. No more homework at the kitchen table, no more eggs for breakfast in the morning. Two more weeks until finals, a month before graduation. She grits herself to bear it until then. It's her goal, although she can think of nothing good that will come after, as she doesn't turn 18 until August. One thing at a time, and she has to pass her classes to graduate.

She continues to get a ride from Bender with Brian, as her aunt seems in the dark about this. It is the highlight of her day, snug between her two friends in the front seat of the car.

The shit hits the fan the night before her last exam, world history. She's up late, going over her notes one last time before bed. She goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The living room lights are off and her aunt and uncle are in bed. She stands at the kitchen sink, looking at the neighbor's security lights on the azaleas, drinking her water, then senses something behind her.

It's Uncle Jim. She starts to say something but he puts his finger to his lips and points in the direction of his and Aunt Selma's bedroom. She looks blankly at him. What is he doing? He comes closer and shows her what he has in his hand. A new box of birth control pills.

"You want these honey?"

Sensing a trap, she shakes her head.

"You can't have fun without them."

She continues shaking her head. She's backed up against the sink, trapped in the corner.

"Come on sweetie, do Uncle Jim a favor and they're yours."

"I don't want them."

"Sure you do, you don't want to get knocked up by that boyfriend of yours who drives you home from school."

"No, he's not my boyfriend. I don't need them for anything." How does he know about Bender?

His belly is almost touching her and she can smell alcohol on him. He grabs her arm hard and tries to force a kiss on her. She stamps on his foot and knees him in the balls. While he is silently doubled over, she dashes to her room and locks the door. She leans against the door, catching her breath, then her mind is racing, trying to find a solution. She starts shoveling her possessions into her duffel bag and purse. She double checks for her sketchbooks and school books, the most important things, then is ready. Uncle Jim is still bent over in the kitchen.

"If you try to find me, child welfare will hear about this," she hisses in his ear. "Leave me alone."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

She calls Bender from the Waffle House. He must have been asleep because he doesn't understand what she is saying at first.

"Why are you at the Waffle House? Now?"

"Never mind that Bender! Just come get me. I'll explain"

He has woken up by the time he gets there and comprehends the situation quickly.

"That bastard. I'll kick his ass. Trying to mess with you..."

"No, you won't. You're going to leave him alone because I want him to stay out of my life. I'm still 17 and who knows what child welfare will do with me. He won't tell them I'm gone, and everything will be fine. I can stay with you and finish school."

"Of course you'll stay with me. I can still kick his ass."

"NO! Bender, no, he'll press charges, get you in trouble, make me go back with him, make me do who knows what and no one will listen to me. You can't," she implores him.

He grumbles but accepts the truth of what she says.

She catches a cab to school the next day, too tired to take the bus. For once, Brian's sympathy is a burden when all she wants to do is concentrate on her exam. He looks hurt after she snaps at him and that makes her feel even worse than before.

"I'm sorry Brian, I just need to focus on getting a passing grade."

One thing he understands is the importance of grades. He remains silent as she mutters her notes to herself. She gets to her classroom just in time, and then settles down to her test. Once it is over, she notices the spring breeze coming through the open windows. It's a beautiful day. She's sure she's passed her exam, the last exam of the year, then decides she deserves a holiday. She tucks a note in Brian's locker and catches the bus to the city park. Screw school, her attendance record is flawless and she's passed her exams. What are they going to do to her?

She makes her way down to the lake and does some yoga positions to loosen up and de-stress. Several joggers stare, but she's used to that. When she is relaxed, she settles herself with her sketchbook and concentrates on capturing the dogwood blooming by the lake's edge. Now she has time for calm reflection and she is satisfied with what she has done. But she must plan for the future as well. She had counted on her mother's financial support to go to art school. Now what will she do? She can't mooch off Bender indefinitely.

She finally decides she can get a job waitressing and reevaluate once she gets used to the work. Maybe she can work her way through school.

A bit more yoga and she heads back to the bus stop, ready to go home. Go home? Bender's apartment feels more like home than her aunt and uncle's ever did.

* * *

Now that she has taken the world history exam, she has two weeks 'til graduation. Seniors still have classes, but they are given no assignments and they spend their time signing year books, exchanging dance pictures and admiring each others' class rings. There is much talk about the prom, but Allison has no intention of going. She can't invite Brian, upperclassmen only are allowed to attend. Besides, she isn't the type to dance to pop music in a fancy dress. It's not her idea of fun.

But Bender has other ideas.

"C'mon Allison, you only get one chance to do it. So it sucks, well, you won't regret not going. But if you don't go, maybe it would've been fun." Bender had gone with Claire the year before. Claire dragged him kicking and screaming, and he complained about it, but she could tell he enjoyed it.

"Who would I go with? Brian can't come."

"Me, naturally. I'd be your handsome and sophisticated escort."

He just won't let it drop, so eventually she gives in to his nagging on the subject. He gives her money to buy tickets and a dress. (It goes down in her loan record.) She shops at her favorite thrift store and emerges with a pale peach flapper's dress, intricately stitched with gray beads and rhinestone clusters. She decides that if she is going to go, she might as well do it right, so she chooses a single cream peony corsage for herself and a white pansy boutonniere for Bender.

When the time for the prom comes around, she finds she is looking forward to it after all. Her hair takes forever and she wishes she had Claire's help creating the stiff waves of the 1920's hairstyle. When she finally emerges from Bender's tiny bathroom, she finds him looking surprisingly handsome in his tuxedo. She must look nice too as he smiles that unforgettable Bender smile.

Allison makes her entrance on Bender's arm as if she were attending a royal court function. The rich girls smirk and point, but she's used to that. Once in the door, she looks to Bender as to what should happen next. He points to a ballot box. "Do you care who wins?"

"Hah."

"Me neither, so we can skip that." He escorts her further into the room, steering them towards a long table with a punch bowl. He dips a glass for her, then shows her the slim hip flask he has tucked inside the tuxedo jacket.

"Want yours doctored?"

She shakes her head. He shrugs and pours a bit in his own drink. The lights are up and music is playing, some popular tripe she is unfamiliar with. Everyone is standing about drinking punch and talking, no one is dancing. This seems boring, so she looks at Bender instead. She is planning a portrait and trying to decide how to pose him, wondering if she can get a camera or will she need to have him sit. She can't see Bender sitting for too long. She'd like to capture that one-of-a-kind crooked smile and she'd need a photo for that. Suddenly she realizes she's been staring at him for a while and he is looking back.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

"I will, if I can get a camera."

"Don't worry about that, we'll get some pictures taken later. Gotta do the whole thing right." He gestures toward a professional photographer set up in the corner, with a cheesey backdrop for posing against.

Finally, Vernon steps up onto a small stage and people collect around him, the waiting apparently over. With a flourish Vernon pulls a name from an envelope and calls one of the boys down, who is dully crowned with a ridiculous hat. The girl is chosen and crowned as well, amid clapping and cheering. Allison doesn't know who any of these people are. Then the king leads the queen down to the dance floor. The lights dim, a slow song comes on and the couple begins the dance, with others joining, until the floor is full of swaying couples. To her surprise Bender leads her out as well, taking one of her hands in his and they begin swaying on the spot. Being so close to Bender is novel but pleasant. He smells good tonight, something woody over laying his normal scent. When the dance is over, they line up to have their photo taken by the professional. As they are walking away from the set, Allison sees Vernon coming directly their way, walking with purpose.

"Watch out," she whispers and nods her head in Vernon's direction. Bender sees him and curses.

"Are you not allowed to be here?"

"Umm, I guess not, seeing as I got kicked out of the last one for my hip flask."

"Let's go then." She starts pushing him into the crowd and forcing her way through toward the exit. They almost make it, but Vernon reaches out one long arm and grabs Bender by the shoulder. Bender whirls.

"Keep your fucking hands off me."

Vernon shoves Bender in the chest, propelling him out of the ballroom and into the hallway.

"You little turd, you think you can come back and cause more trouble?"

"I said, keep your fucking hands off me or you'll regret it."

"What are you going to do? Take a swing at me? Come on, do it, it would make my day."

Bender's hands are balled up in fists and he's breathing hard. Allison jumps between them. Bender ignores her, looking right over her head and gently pushing her away.

"No, Bender, he wants you to, don't do what he wants!"

"That's right, you gutless dog, do it, I want you to, nail one right here." Vernon points to his chin. Allison gets between them again, this time jumping on tip-toe to get in Bender's way.

"Bender, he wants to charge you with assault. Don't do it. If you hit him first you're in trouble."

He seems to see her for the first time.

"Don't, he's trying to trick you. You don't want to do anything he wants you to do,; he's out to get you."

Bender looks at her and his fists uncurl.

"Vernon, you're not worth my time. Go harass someone else."

Allison leads him toward the exit. Once out on the street, Bender takes a swig directly from the offending flask. Regaining his composure on the cab ride home, he puts his arm around her and says, "You'll certainly remember your prom."

When they get back, she's dying to get out of her stockings and wash the stiff waves out of her hair. Showered and attired in a long sleep shirt, she's happy it is her turn to take the bed. Those heels killed her and she's exhausted. She pulls up the sheets and turns on her side, falling asleep immediately. Sometime in the night one corner of her mind wakes and she senses warmth and the smell of Bender close to her. She snuggles into the warmth and her mind slides back into deep sleep.

In the morning, she seeks out the faint trace of memory, warmth and scent. It slips through her grasp and she decides it must have been a dream.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

One more week 'til graduation. Allison has been reading the want ads to get a feel for what she might do, once school is over. There seem to be plenty of waitressing and cashier jobs. Waitressing sounds more fun and more lucrative, so she begins circling ads.

Once again, she finds Bender urging her to be conventional. She had thought about skipping the graduation ceremony, but he insists she use yet more of his money to buy a cap and rent a gown. Then she must have a nice dress underneath. (Why? No one will see it.) Another trip to the thrift store produces a versatile gray dress that she can use for job hunting.

The graduation ceremony bores her to tears. When all the students rise and some throw caps in the air, others hugging, Allison quietly finds Bender. She finds he has been chatting up some of Claire's younger friends. Wondering if he plans a romantic escapade, she joins him. The girls look like they are torn between escaping the basket case and her social taint and staying to talk to the handsome bad boy. Allison discovers what he's up to, he wants pictures again. He gets the girl with the Polaroid to take a few pictures. She asks to use the camera herself and captures that devilish smile.

Bender will not rest until he has taken her out for a celebratory dinner, so she agrees to go to a little Italian place he knows of. That doesn't sound too terrible, but then she realizes he means one of the most expensive restaurants in town. It's little alright, and exclusive. He must have planned this far in advance to get a reservation. And where did he get that suit? Cousin Larry. She didn't know he had cousins.

The dinner at least is fun. And delicious. He keeps her laughing with descriptions of his own senior year events. He was dragged to all of them by Claire and spent copious amounts of time with the elite set, who are crazy in his opinion.

"The girls were capital B Bi—"

"Don't say that word here," she mutters as she kicks him under the table.

"Sorry, gotta be honest; they were bitches. I don't know why Claire hung out with them,; she knew they all lied through their teeth and talked about each other behind their backs. Backstabbing bitches, one and all."

After dinner they stroll around downtown and end up in a café and patisserie. The balmy night air and the flickering candles on the tables in the garden wake the artist in her and she makes a rough sketch on a napkin to be worked up later. Walking back to the car, Bender squeezes her shoulder and asks, "There, graduation wasn't so bad was it?"

* * *

This time she wakes fully when he slips into the bedroom. He is fresh from the shower and is clad in sweats and a t-shirt. He eases under the covers and puts his arm around her. She puts her hand on his and turns her head a little.

"Bender," she says very quietly, "you can hug me when I'm awake. It's okay."

He buries his face in her hair and pulls her closer, nuzzling her neck.

"This is okay?" he murmurs.

Her breath catches at the sensation and she makes an affirmative sound. She turns in his embrace and looks into his eyes. They join in a kiss that is filled with his gentle desire to know her fully. It goes on and on, becomes warm and insistent. Then it is overwhelming, scaring her. She pulls away.

"No."

"No?" he asks, sounding surprised and concerned.

"Not now, not tonight. Let's- let's just go to sleep." She turns again, her back warm against his chest. He cradles her in his arms, relaxed, undemanding.

"Whatever you want, that's what I want."

When she wakes, she hears him moving about in the other room. She is stretching and thinking about getting up when he brings a plate in, hot pancakes and sausages. She drowns her pancakes in the syrup he hands her, then covers the sausages too.

"Allison, there's only one you... who else puts syrup on their sausages?"

He sits on the edge of the bed while she eats. As she is finishing up, he circles her ankle and rubs her foot.

"Allison, I'm sorry, last night, it was too much. I wasn't thinking." He is flushed, looking happy and uncomfortable at the same time.

She says, "Thinking isn't easy when..." She blushes. "Well, it's not easy."

He takes her empty plate and leans down for a kiss, then climbs into bed with her. With her head resting on his chest, he says, "You are one tough nut to crack, Miss Reynolds."

"What do you mean?"

"You're impervious to the most romantic come-ons a guy could think of. Prom, fine dining, romantic little cafés, you name it, I tried it." He pulls her closer and says, "I didn't mean to wake you, I just wanted to feel close to you and smell your hair."

"Like prom night. I thought that was a dream."

* * *

The next day Allison begins her job search. Bender encourages her to take it easy and be in no hurry, but the sooner she starts paying her own way, the better she'll feel. Her job search is restricted to Milton, but there seem to be plenty of openings. After several interviews, she waits for call-backs. The Red Star Café calls first, offering her a breakfast/lunch shift, and she takes it.

"$2.50 is a good tip wage," Bender tells her, then laughs. "The Red Star is a commie place so they pay well."

"Communist?"

"Oh yeah, communism was big in Milton the 1930s. The Red Star just stuck around. The radicals eat there. You landed a good job, Miss Allison."

She must ask for even more money from Bender for the uniform (a red polyester dress with white apron) but she swears this will be the last she asks of him.

The job is hard. It involves a lot of lifting, heavy trays, full bus bins, and industrial sized boxes of supplies. The pace is fast too; when she isn't rushing around during the breakfast and lunch rushes, she is doing prep, stocking and cleaning. Her shift is from 6 to 2, one hour off from bender's 7 to 3 shift, which turns out to be convenient in their bathroom sharing schedule. Sometimes he walks with her to work, to grab a bite there before the beginning of his own shift.

The money is good, as Bender predicted. Altogether she makes about $4 an hour, well above minimum wage. Her first check is $79, not counting the tips she's been accumulating throughout the week. He refuses to take a payment on her loan, but she does pick up the entire grocery bill that evening. She sets aside money for rent and utilities as well, so that she can pay her share.

They no longer have to take turns sleeping in the bed, as they figured that it is quite large enough for two. She sort of wonders why he got such a big bed when he moved in. He claims to have gotten a good deal on a sale, but she wonders about his pursuit of girls for his wallet. Either way, she benefits.

May, June, and July pass in a whirl of work. Brian landed a place in a math and science summer camp in Michigan, so it is just the two of them left from the breakfast club. She finds talking to Claire a little awkward now that she is dating Bender, and obviously in a much more serious way than Claire had. Their phone calls trail off. Last she heard, Andy was doing well on the wrestling team.

August 15 is Allison's birthday. Bender gets them reservations for the same Italian restaurant that Saturday night. With her wages Allison has added to her wardrobe and she has a black lace cocktail dress from the 1960's for the occasion.

Something about that night excites her as nothing has before. She will be free of worries about the Warberts, she will be an adult at last, she is no longer alone and ignored, she has a place and purpose and work, she is independent of anyone and paying her own way in the world, but most of all she has Bender. At the patisserie, her birthday kiss goes on and on and suddenly the cakes are unimportant. They abandon them for a cab home.

Bender always goes no further than Allison wants to go, but tonight, she does not stop him. Every move, every touch seems golden. When he whispers, "I love you," it is an extension of their wordless communication. They cross some line and there is no separation; they are one, their union complete.

* * *

One day several months later, as she is shedding her uniform, the phone rings.

It takes her a little while to understand what the person on the other end of the line is saying.

A man named Mr. Scherer is addressing her.

"Ms. Reynolds, you are an elusive young lady. We have been looking for you for several months. I am glad we finally found you. Your trust fund is ready to be released to you."

"Trust fund?"

Mr. Scherer explains, with some surprise at her ignorance, that she has had a trust fund created by her grandfather waiting for her since she turned 18 in August. She always knew her mother's family had some money at one point, but she thought it all long gone. She had no idea her grandfather had anything to give her.

"Ms. Reynolds, you had no idea this trust fund existed? That is quite irregular. Your mother should have informed you of this months ago."

"Well, she's not exactly around to be giving me any information."

When Mr. Scherer names the sum of money now at her disposal, she decides this must be a dream. But would you have to go into Chicago to sign papers in a dream?

When she hangs up the phone, Bender gives her a funny look that quickly turns to alarm. He pushes her into a chair.

"Was it bad news? Allison, what's wrong?"

"How would you like to be a kept man?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm a rich lady apparently, according to that man on the telephone. I could keep you in a style to which you have never been accustomed."

"Are you okay?"

Eventually she is able to convince him that she is not joking or delusional.

"What do you think about moving to Chicago to attend school? I can afford the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. You could go to one of the universities there. We can do anything."


End file.
